Covenant of Blood

[Brother_Byhlli]

Hi, all. I'm new to your forums and have been reading avidly through a lot of what's been written here over the past few days. I'm travelling at the moment and so am unable to play, to model or even to buy miniatures, so I thought I might spend a little time writing a short story. I have a plan for how to play it out and I think it could go rather well, but I wanted to share the opening with the community before I continued it, to see if there would be any interest in following the story. Here's the first draft of the introduction:

 

 

The sombre atmosphere within the Imperial Guard officers' claustrophobic chapel was tempered at least in part by relief. Electric lighting flickered through the sickly sweet clouds of frankincense that oozed from dimly glowing braziers. The eyes of all but one of the Cadians in the room were holding to Father Georgus who stood, bent by more than age, presiding over the altar. In the very front row of the chapel Captain Endres sat with his eyes closed, half-listening to the liturgies of the Ministorum Priest. His senses roamed the room, gauging the emotions of his men.

 

And men they are, he reflected to himself. Men only, with Men's weakness; and yet men also, with Men's strength of will and determination. His own strength of will allowed him to suppress the shudder of fear that nearly caught him by surprise as he considered the play of events through the previous few days. Weakness? Pah. Where was weakness there? A wry smile almost played about the taciturn Captain's mouth. The flesh of man had again proven weak, perhaps. But the spirit of man? Pride flashed. Such strength of spirit.

 

The subdued chapel had been intended only to be used by officers of his Cadian regiment and yet, here within the four walls, huddled all that remained of his detachment. Some four thousand troops had disembarked on a mission that had seemed days previously not only lacking in challenge, but almost even insultingly easy. Now a little over two hundred men remained. And yet the morale is high; the spirit is strong. Content with what he could sense of the mood in the room, this time the smile was allowed to play over the Captain's mouth. His men had been devastated by the barbarians by such magical attacks as they could not comprehend and had withdrawn in the face of such bewildering power to the relative safety of their compound. Yet they were still unified in purpose. Shaken, true. But determined.

 

The Ministorum Priest paused in his service as his focus shifted across the remnants of his flock. Father Georgus had originally been sent to convert the local populace of the region; a race of people concerned only with a dead religion and a dead Saviour. His had been the duty to preach the Truth of the Imperium and the Emperor of Mankind. He had realised his mission was impossible and his had been the resigned call to the Imperial Guard as he found that others had reached the barbarians first. The Imperial Guard, bastion of faith between humanity and destruction, had answered his call and his had been the responsibility as the souls of nearly four thousand Cadian troopers were sent to the Emperor. He swallowed bitterness. Mine was the failure.

 

The small congregation followed the Priest into a hymn of praise to the Master of Mankind. Surely the Lord of All, omniscient within his Golden Throne, would engineer a victory for the remaining Cadians. The hymn soared, floating through the chapel with a force of fervent belief that all but dispelled Georgus' doubts. Two hundred voices sang in praise of their Lord and pride blossomed: the Emperor was all-powerful. The Emperor would prevail. Renewed strength flowed into the limbs of the troops - radiance came into the faces of the men. They knew that their part was not yet fully played; knew that this was just an intermission. With gaining confidence they looked forward, certain of their eventual victory. They knew not how violently their final bow would come. Nor how quickly....

 

Explosions roared as the frag grenades crashed into the holy house. A section of wall directly behind the altar gave way as the vicious reports of krak grenades sounded. The men in the chapel didn't even have time to close their mouths in surprise and end their futile prayer before a thundering voice boomed into the smoke-filled room. "FOR THE EMPEROR AND SANGUINIUS!"

 

Hulking red forms swarmed through the entrance to the chapel. Too massive to fit through the door more than one at a time, smoothly they glided in single-file through the opening. Crimson wriaths moving with the speed and precision that comes through centuries of training, their bolt pistols spat exploding volleys of death. From the new hole in the wall by the altar more of the giant figures materialised. The first grabbed the terrified, frozen Father Georgus neatly around the waist with one hand and hoisted him over a shoulder as if he weighed nothing. It swiftly backed out through the hole in the wall, firing a salvo of pistol shots on the way.

 

The Cadian Guard barely had time to scream or to yell in protestation, never mind think about drawing weapons. As the behemoth carrying Georgus vanished through the dusty, smoking gap behind the altar, others of its kind crashed in through the breach, widening it enough for two to enter abreast. Within the space of little more than five seconds, the Priest was gone and no less than nine of the Emperor's Adeptus Astartes, mankind's greatest and finest warriors, had entered the chapel, bolt pistols spewing a maelstrom of fury and fire, chainswords screaming as they clove through armour, flesh and bone alike.

 

Outside the hall of death, Father Georgus rallied his wits enough to struggle. He could hear the shocked troops inside begin to rally in defiance of the Space Marines who had so horrifyingly destroyed the holy reverence of the chapel. In spite of his age, he pummeled his fists against the red ceramite power armour of his assailant. His wild rage sent limbs crashing against the yellow helmet that ignored him so impassively. From the corner of his eye, the Priest saw a second figure approach. Moving with a silent menace, it was carrying a strange item covered in needles that seemed somehow familiar. The Priest struggled to clear his stunned mind, struggled to shut out the horrifying claxon calls of victory and of death as the nearing object demanded his focus. With growing panic, he fought to remember what the object was. As the menacing figure drew close, the needles whirred smoothly into action. Held solidly in the grip of his captor, Georgus couldn't avoid them as the needles stabbed into his leg.

 

Almost instantly, his mind fogged. As his rolling eyes turned into the back of his head, he dimly recognised the white power pack of the Space Marine who had drugged him. Through his dimming terror, a memory jogged from the recesses of his mind: Exsanguinator. His head lolled across the massive shoulder plate of the warrior who held him tightly. The light around him dimmed slowly. The screams of the dying behind him gradually quieted. As he drifted into total blackness, one final thought gently nudged its way into his mind, almost unnoticed: Mine was the failure.

 

The echoing of bolt pistol rounds had ended. The screams had been cut off. As if materialising out of the smokey, dusty hole in the chapel's rear wall, nine figures appeared, sheathed in blood red ceramite armour, their helmets a tell-tale yellow. Disdainfully, the Space Marine holding the unconscious Priest dropped him to the ground, then turned to observe the rest of the squad as a howling of engines signalled the arrival of their Stormraven Drop Ship. A nearly imperceptible nod passed from the Sergeant to his Assault Marines. From the instant the perfectly-coordinated attack had begun to the moment that the eleven Blood Angels silently trooped onto the Stormraven Drop Ship with their captive, fewer than twenty seconds had passed.

 

 

I'm not wholly happy with this at the moment, but it is only a first draft. I feel the overall feeling of the piece is inconsistent, the tension can be increased and the slow drugging of the Priest can be done a little better. I would appreciate any and all feedback, though. Most importantly: would this be a story you would be interested in following? If you want an idea for where it's going, I'm happy to provide an overview.

[Leonaides]

Why would a preacher recognise an Astartes Exsanguinator? Thats one question I hope you'd pick up and explain at some point (I imagine there'll be some sort of flash-back or prelude/hint of backstory along at some point).

 

There are easier ways to drug a human than use a holy instrument possessed of a tiny fragment of a Grail, after all.

[Brother_Byhlli]

Much of what I put down needs rewritten. It took about ten minutes to put together and the more I read it, the less happy I am with it. Your point is valid and completely accepted.

 

My reasoning for using the Exsanguinator was that it's the medic's medic kit. Seems a handy way to administer drugs. But I will definitely be looking into it more thoroughly, when I'm a little more awake and have had a little less beer!

 

Thanks for the feedback, though.

[vharing]

The idea is good but I would like to point out that you can get an exsanguinator (narthecium) in the Deathwatch RPG and it says it is meant more for use on space marines only. I think using it on the preach might kill him.

[The Crimson Cartel]

And here I expected this story to be about a certain group of Night Lords... and a certain group of Blood Angels :D

 

You know the author of the books that uses "Covenant of Blood" as a major part of his books posts on these boards quite often.

 

Decent enough start so far tho

 

-CC